Nothing left
by thelastfury
Summary: What happens when someone has nothing left to live for? John Sheppard's friends are about to find out.
1. Prologue

AN: Lately I have been really interested in the darker side of the human existence, what happened when someone had nothing left to live for. That interest led to this fic being born. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Disclaimer, none of this belongs to me, mores the pity.

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His eyes were dead.

Inky darkness lurked behind his irises, bubbling away like dark thick honey, sickly sweet, as it rotted teeth and brain alike. She had heard stories of course. Everyone had. It was something that the Pegasus galaxy natives and the Earthlings had in common. The stories of hope lost, where death seemed kind by comparison. When someone had lost so much they just lost it. Where their emotional turmoil had over flown until there was nothing left. She had never witnessed this before. Her people had lost everything to the wraith, but all knew that they had to rebuild, that they keep living in honour of the memories of those who had been taken.

Her father had told her a story once. Of a man who had lost everything. He had come to their village through the ring of the ancestors, his clothes torn and bloody. She hadn't been there at the time, out playing with the other children in the fields. But all the adults had been talking about it when they returned. How the man had stumbled his way into the village, spoke briefly of the horrors that had befallen himself and his family, his entire village at the hands of the wraith. He had been escorted away to the healing tent, and they had thought that with some rest and some kindness he would recover. It wasn't to be. The wraith came that night, sweeping many of their people into the culling beams. She had been scared, terrified. She had become trapped in the centre of the village frozen in fear. Screams lit the night air and fire lapped at the ground around her. She didn't realise that the loudest screams had been emitted by her until a wraith drone turned its sightless gaze on her. Her screaming had reached fevered pitch as she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable.

A hard body impacted her small one, sending her crashing to the ground. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have realised that it had come from the wrong direction so her eyes had popped open in surprise when there had been no pain. The man stood protectively in front of her, knives glinting in the firelight as he whipped them around in a complicated manoeuvre. She felt the air whoosh past her as he stood his ground as the wraith drone walked towards him. It was silent battle of wills, each locked in their own minds. The wraith movement was quick and unhurried, moving its hand up to bat away this annoying human, but the man was quick. The wraith was dead before it hit the ground. Shaking, she had managed to pull herself to her knees, crawling over to the man. He was panting heavily, eyes transfixed on the dead wraith at his feet. She had tugged hesitantly at his pant leg and he had whirled on her.

He had dead eyes as well.

Realising who she was took a moment until recognition managed to swim through the darkness that haunted his eyes. He picked her up then, and ran her through the woods until he found some others who were fleeing. They started crying when they saw her, their fears for their future leader outweighing their own momentarily. The only woman in the group reached out and took her from the man thanking him breathlessly as they started to run towards the caves that would afford them some protection. It wasn't until they had reached the opposite end of the clearing did they realise that he wasn't following. The woman had stopped, shouted at him, pleading with him to hurry. He had merely shaken his head, as if what they were discussing were of little consequence.

She would never forget what happened next. His eyes crinkled, the inky darkness spilling away for a single instance, before the corners of his mouth tipped up in a small smirk. Then he was gone, disappearing instead, back towards the wraith.

They found his body during the cleanup, corpse bloody and whole. The wraith had not fed on him, instead merely cutting him down. That was probably due to the large pile of wraith corpses that had accumulated near his last stand. They buried him with the rest of the Athosians, in a place of honour. With no family to mourn him, she had taken it upon herself to take care of the grave of the nameless stranger.

It wasn't until many years later that she realised why he had affected her so much. Why that final smile, seemed so wrong. Why he had run back to certain death.

It wasn't until she saw the same look reflected back in the eyes of John Sheppard did she truly realise what it meant to have nothing left to live for.

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AN: Just a short Prologue to introduce you to the main idea that will run throughout this story. Any reviews will be kindly appreciated, especially with any ideas you have about where this is headed. I know where I want it to go, but sometimes my fingers talk for themselves!

-thelastfury


	2. It begins

AN: Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy!

3 days earlier

It had been a routine mission. It always was. A simple meet and greet that had turned deadly instantaneously. It was on their way back to the gate when everything went to hell. They had been ambushed as they traversed towards the gate that had just come into sight. Bullets screamed overhead and arrows made furrows in the ground as their attackers made good use to the weapons available to them. They had taken refuge behind the boulders that littered the ground in the clearing the gate was located in. Rodney had been closest to the DHD at the time and had scuttled behind it as an arrow flew too close for comfort.

His squawk of fear and protest had been cut off by another arrow as it winged his arm. He huddled closer to the DHD as his teammates had returned fire. Sheppard had been lagging behind, taking out the rear, so he was furthest from the gate. He tried only once to get closer to the outcropping that afforded Ronon and Teyla protection. But that idea had been literally shot down when bullets flew through the air where his head had been only moment before and a groan as he himself was winged by an arrow.

"Rodney...RODNEY!" He had to shout over the noise and the man's own fear. It wasn't until the second yell that he managed to catch his attention. Big blue eyes wide with fear met his. Sheppard jerked his head towards the DHD, then wiggled his eyebrows, then did it again. Rodney realised what he was asking and shook his head with vigour. He then stared miming, putting his hands around his throat, his eyes bugged out of his head. Then for extra emphasis, tying a make believe noose around his head and twisting it to the side, his tongue poking from his mouth. It would have been quite comical if not for certain death that was being shot over their heads in a non-stop barrage. Finally with some well placed death threats of his own, which he perfected to a fine art, Rodney tentatively poked in his head and one arm over the device. His teammates provided cover fire.

The gate whooshed open behind him as he ducked for cover when a stray bullet struck too close for comfort. He heard Teyla firing and saw Ronon's weapon light the clearing with a red glow. He motioned for their attention and managed to convey for them to cover Rodney and then make a run for it themselves. They didn't look particularly happy about the plan, but that was the only option available.

So Rodney was the first through the gate, his three teammates covering his retreat. With a gentle whoop he was gone and the bullets that flew in his direction ceased and started on the only three teammates left. By now however, many of the attackers had been incapacitated and by Sheppard's count, only five remained, two with crossbows and another three with primitive guns. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another attacker engulfed by Ronon's gun. Two crossbows, two guns.

Ronon sprang up from behind the boulder as Teyla made a dash for the gate, bullets snapping at his heels. Sheppard jumped up to help, using this distraction as a means to get himself closer to the gate. With two different targets, the firing became erratic and two more attackers were shot down by Ronon as Sheppard skidded to a halt beside him. Both ducked behind the boulders as bullets peppered the ground around them. Only one gun seemed to be firing so it looked as though the other was out of ammo.

He nodded to Ronon who nodded back; he had come to the same conclusion. Peeking gingerly from behind their cover, they were surprised when no bullets ricocheted around them. Instead there was nothing.

They stood up hesitantly, guns aimed at the surrounding area, eyes alert for any threats. Upon finding none, Sheppard jerked his head towards the stargate. They backed up slowly drifting closer and closer to safety.

They heard the enemy before they saw him. He had snuck around from behind, using the shimmering portal as a mask to hide behind. Even as they both whirled, they knew it was already too late. Ronon had been the closest, but the enemy had barely paid any heed to the Runner. Instead, he had simply pushed him through the gate. Sheppard's eyes widened at this, and tried desperately to step back into relative safety. But the enemy was quicker, intercepting him and tackling him into the ground away from the stargate. His P90 went flying, skittering across the ground. He tried only once to reach for his berretta. The flying kick the enemy sent his way nearly broke his wrist. So they became locked in a battle of hand to hand combat. Every hit and kick Sheppard sent at the enemy was neatly blocked, just as he blocked the enemies. They went evenly matched, neither of them gaining ground, but both were tiring. Both realised this and started to fight harder. Sheppard sent a fist towards his opponents head, pulling back at the last moment to bring up his knee into the enemy's groin. His enemy fell for the feint and he used this to his advantage, using the pause in action to whip out his knife. Stepping back into a defensive position Sheppard raised his knife, just as the enemy swerved to face him. Right onto the knife. With a groan the enemy collapsed to the ground, breath coming in short sharp gasps. His eyes slid shut.

Sheppard saw movement out the corner of his eye and saw the final able bodied enemy come at him with one wicked looking dagger. He saw the fury in the other man's eyes, no cool detachment like that of a professional. No. Whoever this guy was, he was an amateur, and didn't know that fighting in anger was likely to get him killed. Sheppard whirled, the knife missing his exposed throat by inches. He feigned to the left, and the attacker was so blinded by rage that he didn't see the blow coming until it was too late. He doubled over with a fist to the gut then collapsed when Sheppard picked up a rock and smacked him over the back of the head. Crude, but effective.

Sighing in relief he slumped down, casting a watchful eye over the two men he had downed. He examined the wound in his arm that had been silent, flaring up again as he probed the area around the arrow gouge. It wasn't deep and would probably only need a few stitches. Satisfied, he turned his gaze back to the men at his feet. Only, now there was only one still motionless o the ground. Quickly scanning his gaze he found his target. The first assassin stood by the DHD, about 20m from Sheppard. Blood dripped rhythmically to the ground from the knife still embedded in his chest.

His gaze was still cold and hard.

"You have been a worthy opponent Sheppard. But I have failed in my task. Shame has been brought on my family."

Sheppard just stared at him, his mind still stuck in the fight zone.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He smiled at this, and then pulled a very familiar looking device from his pocket.

"Farewell, may I redeem myself in the eyes of my world. May others succeed where I have failed."

He clutched the grenade to his chest and closed his eyes.

He pulled out the pin.

AN: I'm not really good at the whole fight scene so any feedback would be greatly appreciated.


	3. Calm before the storm

AN: Previously on Nothing left:

_He clutched the grenade to his chest and closed his eyes._

_He pulled out the pin._

'Oh crap' was all Sheppard managed before he was catapulted through the stargate and halfway across the gateroom. It was a weird feeling being airborne in total silence, before reality caught up and he hit the ground. Hard. The breath was knocked out of him and he had never felt the loss of it so keenly before. Shuddering on the ground, there was a stunned silence around him, before all hell broke loose. Hands clutched at him as he fought to pull in a breath, and he saw spots start to dance in his vision. Keller's calm face appeared, shouting something that was drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

Finally, after what seemed like years he managed to take a huge gulping breath of blessed oxygen. It was heaven. Gasping like a fish out of water, he felt an oxygen mask being secured around his face as hands reaches to lift him onto a nearby stretcher. He batted them away, his anger overriding everything else. He managed to heave himself into a sitting position, the spots coming back for an encore.

He felt the gentle hands leave him then, replaced by two sets he knew well. Ronon flanked him on one side, as Teyla took position on the other as they hauled him to his feet. They looked as pissed as he felt. Rodney's whining was a constant soothing noise in the background rising and falling in irritation as his minor wounds were dealt with cleanly and efficiently.

Now he was standing he could see that Atlantis hadn't come away unscathed either. Bullet holes riddled the wall and one soldier was being treated by a nurse. The gate was still active, the shield glowing serenely in the background. Then the gate shut down and silence was once again in the air.

Sheppard broke the silence.

"Somebody wants us dead."

--

He wasn't that badly injured. It had only taken ten stitches to close up his wound on his arm, but due to Rodney's insistence that he remain in the infirmary and his refusal to be excused from the debriefing; an impromptu meeting was held in the infirmary.

Elizabeth stood at the foot of Rodney's bed, while Teyla and Sheppard each took a seat to the side. Beckett stood by the head of Rodney's bed while Ronon paced in agitation.

"I don't understand," Elizabeth said.

"This wasn't a random attack. We were targeted. Mercenaries, guns for hires would be my guess. Most of them weren't well trained, but the guy that pushed Ronon through the gate and attacked me had military training. Just before he blew himself up he said something. _'I have failed'_. Trying to kill me was like some sort of mission for him."

Sheppard paused and then exhaled loudly.

"There's just one thing that doesn't add up. Why push Ronon through and not attack him?"

Teyla and Ronon exchanged glances. Sheppard caught the look.

"What?"

"What if he wasn't after _us_, Colonel?" Teyla paused this time casting another glance at Ronon. He grunted to her silent question as she continued. "What if they were after you?"

There as a long silence where each member contemplated her words.

"But it doesn't make any sense." Sheppard jumped up from his seat and started pacing. "Sure I've made some enemies, but who would go to all this trouble?"

Rodney snorted but everyone ignored him.

"Nevertheless Colonel Sheppard, I think it would be best for the time being that you and your team be suspended from gate travel until we get this mess sorted."

"But Elizabeth…"

"No John. I'm not taking any chances. Just lay low for a while, okay?"

The stared at each other for a long while, a silent battle of wills before Sheppard broke the contact. Sighing, he pushed a hand through his hair and winced when he realised it was his bad arm. As if that proved something, Elizabeth smiled, before wishing then a good night and sauntering back to the control room.

Sheppard stayed for a while after that plonking back down in his chair as Ronon grunted something about getting food and Teyla followed him out with a small smile. Beckett wandered off to check on some other patient as Sheppard and Mckay started bickering. Eventually their voices rose to a level where they started to disturb the other patients so they were unceremoniously chastised and kicked out of the infirmary by an irritate CMO. Parting ways with one final insult, Sheppard found himself tracing his path back to the gate room, intending on talking to Elizabeth again.

He didn't count on the alarms sounding.


	4. Try again

AN: Here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

(By the way this is set sometime in the third season and there are a couple of spoilers for the first three seasons. Nothing major but be warned.)

--

"Unscheduled off-world activation"

Chuck's words rang out across the gate-room as John bolted through the door and sprinted up the stairs. Elizabeth was already there, arms across tightly against her chest as if to ward off bad news. She barely looked up when he skidded to a stop, a tight smile all she could spare. As the wormhole stabilised, the shield shimmered into effect. There was a beat of silence, then another, before Chuck's voice rang out again.

"Receiving Major Lorne's IDC code and a radio transmission, ma'am."

"They're not due back for another 2 hours yet," she murmured, mostly to herself. "Open a channel."

Chuck complied in quick efficient movements.

Sheppard spoke first. "Major Lorne what's your status?"

Weapon fire pinged in the background before a voice cut in, "Sir, were pinned down by an unknown number of hostiles. I have one man down and more hostiles converging on our position.'

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, a grunt then more weapons fire.

"Lorne?'

"Sorry sir, bastards were trying to sneak around from behind. We're cut off from the gate and request immediate assistance."

John looked at Elizabeth and she nodded before he was bolting for the room, tapping his radio and requesting his team and an additional team of marines to meet him in the jumper bay.

"Just hold on major," Elizabeth's voice was calming, soothing. "Colonel Sheppard and his team will be there momentarily."

--

The teams, even Rodney were seated in the jumper by the time Sheppard arrived five minutes later. He was settling in the pilot seat as Carson and one of his nurses came rushing in, intent on finishing off the motley rescue crew. He quickly went through the pre flight check then radioed for the gate to be dialled. There was a hushed silence in the jumper as their request was granted and they were soaring through the gate with Elizabeth's 'good luck' floating in their ears.

The trip through the gate was quick, effortless, and then they were gliding through the air. Immediately the HUD popped up, displaying several life signs, the subcutaneous transmitters of the for Atlantis personnel standing out against the many other dots.

"Alright. Our guys are pinned down by fifteen men. This is a quick in and out, we get Lorne and his team then get back to the jumper. We're close to the gate, so if for any reason you find yourself pinned down away from the jumper dial the gate and go through that way. Nichols, you take the Blake, Mott and Land, you guys are in charge of getting Lone and his men out. Ronon, Teyla you're with me, we'll distract them. Rodney, I want you to stay in the jumper with Beckett and Marie and monitor things from here. If things get hairy we may need you to provide a quick getaway. Got it?"

He looked affronted. "I'm not an idiot."

He had to smile at that, as did many of the others in the jumper, before the gravity and the situation settled on their faces again.

The jumper touched down then and the men gathered around the hatch. He got up then, clipping his p90 to his vest before joining Nichols at the hatch. He palmed the door open and he and Nichols slid out, sliding effortlessly into the shadows, John sliding to the left, Nichols to the right. Their teams followed.

They were going for stealth, quietly disposing of any enemies they found with Ronon's stunner, then securing them with zip ties. So far they had incapacitated three stragglers, Nichols, two which left seven loosely grouped around Lorne's team. They would be trickier because of their proximity and almost impossible to pick off one by one. So they used the element of surprise, firing from behind catching the enemy off guard. Two fell immediately under the weapons fire, while the others ducked behind a nearby outcropping.

Bullets ricocheted around as Sheppard and his team traded fire with the hostiles. Another bad guy fell under the barrage.

Then there was silence. Surprised, Sheppard raised his eyebrows at his teammates. They shrugged, and he motioned for them to slink around the edge of the clearing, leaving him alone.

Just what the attackers wanted. One was on him before he had time to blink, going down with a fist to the jaw. Stars exploded behind his vision and he had just enough presence of mind to roll before a large body tried to smack down into his. He managed to roll to his feet, and stood on shaking legs. The two were eying each other warily, and it took a moment for John to realise that the ringing in his head was not actually ringing, that it was actually the sound of a P90 firing, accompanied in odd intervals by the low whine of Ronon's blaster.

He had no more time to think on their situation because the raider attacked. His eyes were wild, but his movements were quick, decisive. This man had had some formal training, and he was fit and strong. There was an onslaught of hits to his face and upper torso, John barely able to throw up his arms to protect himself. The barrage didn't stop, the attacker didn't pause. That was when John knew he was in trouble. This man was fresh, well trained, whereas John had already been in a fight today and injured, he was tiring quickly. A well placed kick later and John as on the ground, confused not remembered the hit that had caused his knees to buckle. He just knelt there dumbly; staring up at his would be murderer. Dimly, he could still hear shots in the background, far away, so he knew no help would come from that quarter. He was alone.

The raider smiled then, and lifted the gun he had retrieved from the ground. John noticed dimly that he was about to be shot with his own gun. Oh, the irony. He chuckled, and the raider frowned for a moment, then shook his head, muttering in a strange language. He brought the gun up.

John closed his eyes as he waited for the inevitable. The gunshot came, but not from the direction he thought. Popping his eyes open in surprise, he was just in time to witness the raider collapsing to the ground with blood soaking his shirt. A very surprised Rodney McKay stood behind him, shaking hands gripping his handgun tightly.

"I…I came to … ahh… Lorne and Nichols came back but…umm...they were there but you weren't," he finally managed to stammer.

Rising stiffly to his feet, John walked quickly over to Rodney and lowered his handgun slowly.

"Thank-you."

That seemed to snap him out of it. Instantly he was pushing the safety back on his gun and shoving it roughly into his holster. He pulled out the life signs detector and his eyes widened.

"Two life signs coming fast."

The bushes crinkled in annoyance as two figures burst through into the clearing. John was instantly on alert, brining up his gun, but relaxing as he identified Ronon and Teyla. He hadn't noticed until then that the forest was silent. Ronon was limping slightly and Teyla had a field dressing on one arm, but they were alive and at the moment that was all that mattered.

"You guys alright?"

At their quick nods, he tapped his radio.

"Report."

Nichols answered. "We have Lorne and his team. They're pretty bad sir. Stevens is bleeding out, we need to get him to the gate immediately."

"And the hostiles?"

"Between you and the jumper. They look like they're releasing their comrades. What do you want us to do sir?"

He paused, weighing his options.

"Head back to the gate major. We'll follow on foot. Get Lone and his team to the infirmary as soon as possible."

"Yes sir. Thank-you." The relief in his voice was evident and John knew in that moment that he had made the right choice, hoping that Stevens would live.

P90 at the fore he turned back to his team who had been listening to the conversation.

"Alright looks like we're on foot. Ronon, you take point. Teyla you and McKay stay between us. It should only take us around 20 mins to get there, but stay sharp. There are still hostiles around."

As they headed out Sheppard prayed for an easy walk back to the gate.

So much for his prayers.

--

AN: This isn't much of a cliffie, but I think I needed a little break here. Any reviews would be kindly appreciated. I don't actually know if it's believable that Sheppard would just kneel there and wait to die, but you have to imagine that he's really tired and probably has a concussion, so he's not really thinking straight.


	5. The last

AN: Ok must warn you I've skipped time ahead a little bit, and it may be confusing, but bear with me, it will (hopefully!) all make sense in time. By the way is should warn you that this is not a deathfic in anyway, even though it may seem so. Alright, that's about everything, please enjoy the next instalment of … Nothing Left.

--

He woke up with a blade of grass tickling the inside of his nose. Dew streaked grass clung to his face and body, soaking through his t-shirt and pants. He was lying on his stomach in a small clearing, cheek resting against the cold wet round. His thoughts were jumbled, confused. What was he doing here? If his team had to stay overnight off-world then they were usually offered accommodation or they brought tents and sleeping bags. _His team_. That thought sent him shooting upright, rocking back on his heels. The world spun lazily around him and bile burned the back of his throat.

His team.

He remembered now. The ambush, the race back to the gate that was becoming way too familiar. Their faces as one by one they were captured. Their faces as one by one they were executed, Teyla's defiance, Ronon's rage and Rodney's fear, all because he refused to give up the address to Atlantis and the codes that would grant them access. He remembered breaking free of his captors, wild hot rage like fire burning through his veins as he broke the necks of two guards without blinking. He remembered screaming, being fired upon before he could get to his friends, his family. He remembered fleeing, the stench of death and betrayal all around him, the agony of loss as it clawed through his chest and squeezed his heart like it was a lemon.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He didn't have time to cry. Standing up he closed his eyes and sniffed at the breeze. There! The smell of fire, of human existence. Gazing upward, he could just make out smoke to the north of his position. He took stock of his provisions. A bloody knife clutched tightly in his sweaty palm, one he recognised as Ronon's, his tac vest filled with bandages, medical supplies the raiders had deemed as harmless, that Teyla had taken so much pride in learning about, and a few energy bars that he kept on hand for Rodney and his hypoglycaemia. He had to stop again after seeing these few items, his friend's deaths still too clear in his mind. He thought back to all the good times, of sparring with Ronon after a hard day, of teasing Rodney about some inane subject that he couldn't even remember anymore and of meditating with Teyla, her knowing silence when she realises that he is actual asleep.

His thoughts spun through the memories, leaving devastation in their wake.

He thought of his friends, of his family. Of all he had lost.

Of those who would writhe under his blade and scream for mercy before the day was through.

--

He hadn't been an ordinary soldier. Any of the soldiers under his command could see that. His training moves were more advanced than any other air force officer, his reflexes sharper than any marine. They didn't know the extent of his training, but there were rumours. He had been recruited to a special black ops division straight out of the academy. He was the best of the best. And then Mitch and Dex died, his defiance of orders to rescue Holland and failing miserably. His status had been rescinded after that. The special training he had received lay dormant. Until Atlantis. Already in his brief tenure here, his skills for survival had been called on twice. When the Genii had invaded Atlantis, he had let his anger and rage take control and he had lashed out against a seemingly infallible foe. And won. Then Thalen had decided his body would make a good host. His skills had been called upon, but luckily not enough for Elizabeth's death. Or anyone else's for that matter.

But he had never used it like this before, to cause utter and total destruction.

--

Tucking the knife carefully into his own empty sheath at his waist, he crept silently to the right of the path that led through the forest. It was an old animal track, from large beasts that were like a mix between a rhino and a leopard. Called a _minaw_, he had first been introduced to them on an allied planet by Teyla, her delight clear as she beheld the beasts. They were rare indeed, able to be bred on only a few planets. But they were prized, not only for their loyalty to their kin and to their owners, but because they released a certain type of enzyme from small gland in their mouth that had certain healing properties Carson and his group had been salivating over for months. He only knew that it had been a _minaw_ because he had seen one, standing still as stone, as if carved by the wind. It watched him as he stalked along the track, its dark eyes assessing his very soul. A bird tutted at his back and he had tensed, whirling around to face a possible threat. But there had been nothing there, only the wind. By the time he had turned back to his route, the _minaw_ was gone, a paw-print the only indication that what he had actually seen was real and not imagined.

He paused again as a sound whispered trough the forest. Turning 360 degrees gave him nothing, just his mind playing tricks on him. The rain had started up again, which was lucky; the rain that had hid his escape, allowed him a few moments of respite in order to get away, now blanketed his soft footfalls from his enemies. His senses were on high alert, his eyes constantly sweeping for motion as he hunted his prey. He was closer to them now, the smell of a forest fire deep in his nose. He could hear laughter rise and fall on the wind, before stony silence intruded, broken only by snatches of conversation, too soft to be understood.

They wouldn't know what hit them.


	6. The past

**I'm sorry it took me so long to update but real life intruded. This is the first time I've sat down in about 3 months and done something for myself. I will try my hardest to finish the story I the next three weeks but no promises. However I WILL finish this story.**

**Thanks for your understanding and for hanging in there.**

**--**

It had been twelve hours since they had stepped on this god forsaken planet. Eight since his team had been brutally executed in front of his face.

_Flashback_

_They were picking their way slowly through the forest, all eyes alert for any sign of the raiders. They had been travelling for 15 minutes, and were almost to the gate when the raiders hit._

_Rodney had already pocketed his life signs detector, his belief that they were home free, allowing him to relax a little. Little did he know how much that mistake would cost him. _

_The first sign of trouble came as dart, feathers attached to its base, flew through the air and impacted Sheppard's thigh. He didn't even notice it at first. He had thought it just some sort of discomfort from little to no sleep from the two back to back missions. A muscle twinge. His hand, as a reflex moved from the trigger of his P90 to scratch at the skin, but had instead encountered the dart. Eyebrows drawn in confusion he had stopped and looked down, eyes widening in recognition. He pulled out the dart._

_The world got a little blurry after that._

_He remembered his making a surprised grunt as the world wavered, Teyla's tentative "John?" as his knees had buckled of their own accord. Then his team was there surrounding him as bullets from raiders guns filled the air. He grunted again as a bullet shot too close for comfort ,dirt spraying up as bits of rock pelted his leg, then Ronon was there pulling him along as Rodney and Teyla covered their backs. The remaining trip was a blur until finally; finally they reached the stargate, Ronon by this time having to carry most of Sheppard's weight now. The stargate was the most blessed sight in the world in that moment, for all of them. Then like it always did, disaster struck. They were only meters away when Rodney fell with a startled yelp. Teyla turned, hair whipping round as she made to go to Rodney before she too fell. Her body was still crumpling as Ronon let out a roar and fired blindly. His roar gurgled off, and John knew that he too had been hit. They feel together, marionettes with their strings cut. The last thing he saw was the smiling dirty face of a raider before he let the drug pull him under. _

_End Flashback_

They were dead and he was alive. And there was nothing he could do to change. But he could make those who committed this act pay.

--

He made it to their camp just as the sun was peaking over the dense tree top. The rainforest wasn't humid as some others he had been in, but it wasn't exactly cool either. Tugging off his tac vest, as much to cool him down and to make movement easier, he hid it between the roots of two trees. He drew on his survival training, slathering mud on his body for an easy effective camouflage. When he finished, he drew himself to his full height and started his hunt.

--

It took him a while to set everything up. But three hours after finding the camp, he was ready. He crouched down on a slight incline that the camp was situated next to. He had good cover here, the trees dense enough to hide him, but thin enough for him to have a good view of the camp and the raider's movements. By his count there were five men, two patrolling the small perimeter at any one time. The other two spent the time either packing up the camp or sitting by the fire eating and laughing like they had not a care in the world. One was clearly the leader, spending his time ordering the others around, who scurried to obey his every command and sitting by the fire, staring into its depths. He had called himself Blendol, and he had been the one to pull the trigger and end the lives of his friends, of his family. Sheppard would save his death for last, to instill him with fear so great his sweat would soak his clothes, his breath would soak the air and finally, his blood would soak his skin.

The first man would be practice. He had to get everything right so that Blendol's execution would go down without a hitch. After all, he was he judge, jury and most definitely the executioner. He didn't take pleasure in killing, even in his irrational state. Bur these men did not deserve to live.

A rustling in the bush beside him got his attention. He heard a grunt and then a muffled yelp. Realising that the first of his traps had been sprung, Sheppard quickly made his way to where his quarry lay trapped.

--

Lorne nodded to his second in command as the last of the marines exited the gate with a gentle whoop. The gate was deserted, the only sign of human existence the small trail that led deeper into the woods. And the blood, so much blood. As the marines spread out into a defensive position, Lorne and Beckett knelt down to examine the blood. Three stood apart from the rest.

"Doc?"

Beckett shook his head.

"I can't say for sure whether or not the blood is human, but……."

"Sir! Over here!"

With a passing glance at Beckett who was also standing, Lorne quickly made his way over to where Nichols was standing ashen faced.

"There's a body here sir."

That made the air drop a few degrees.

"Is it Sheppard?"

"No sir, but it's not pretty."

Lorne looked down at the body that was already starting to attract the wild life. Something like flies buzzed around the corpse, and even though Lorne thought that the body had only been dead maybe a few hours, a suspicion that was later confirmed by Doctor Beckett, animals had already started feasting.

Nichols came up behind him.

"Someone slit his throat sir."

Lorne's face was grim. A terrible thought was forming in his mind but he forced it back.

"There's nothing we can do here. Let's move out."


	7. Is it real?

--

His first kill had been easy enough. Take out the soldier going back to the gate early. It was simple enough to drag the knife across his throat even with whatever they had given him still buzzing around in his system. But he hadn't gotten away unscathed either. He had had the element of surprise until he had stepped on an unseen twig. They had fought briefly before madness and anger had turned the fight in Sheppard's favour and the man had moved no more. But during the ensuring struggle the man had got in a lucky shot and drawn his own blade across Sheppard's unprotected side. Although the wound was shallow, it had caused Sheppard's mind to clear a little, and take a moment to retreat and lick his wounds. The drug they had gave him muddled his brain again and dulled the pain from the wound. His thoughts once again turned to revenge and death.

--

They were in a tight formation, each soldier playing their role. They were moving slowly cautiously, tracking the movements of Sheppard's team the day before. Lorne was heading the charge, with Nichols his second in command not far behind. They had just split into two groups each following a different track when a noise captured their attention. Everyone froze.

A small mouse shot across the path in front of them. Sighing, Lorne jerked his head to motion for Nichols to keep moving forward.

Nichols nodded, and went to take a step forward.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice echoed around them as did the sound of guns as they were cocked. It took a moment's hesitation for recognition to set in.

"Lower your weapons," Lorne commanded.

As the men did, a dark shape dropped from a nearby tree onto the ground. The shape materialised into a man, who was instantly recognised as the owner of the familiar voice. Then they got a good look at him.

Lorne took a step forward, "Colonel Sheppard? Are you alright?"

He went to take another step forward but Sheppard just shook his head.

"I told you not to do that." His voice was rough, his eyes wandering from place to place. But he was eerily calm. Mud caked his body and a deep scratch leaked blood down the side of his neck. His hair was deflated, clumps of mud and blood flattening it in places. But that was not what shocked them. That had more to do with the spray of red glistening blood that painted itself across Sheppard's face, in stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. The blood that could not have come from Sheppard. An image sprang unbidden to mid. The dead body they had encountered only minutes before. And Sheppard's eyes, dead eyes that held only darkness. Lorne couldn't hold back a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Do what sir?"

Sheppard's face contorted into a smirk, and some of the darkness cleared. He took a step forward picked up a nearby stick and jabbed it into the ground only inches from where Lorne was standing. Lorne jumped backward when the ground caved in, and a very big hole appeared. At the bottom lay several sharp sticks that could easily seriously maim anyone unlucky enough to fall in.

He heard a curse from one of the men behind him as he realised how close he had just come to death. Expelling the air from his lungs in a whoosh, he looked back up to his CO.

But he wasn't looking at the men before him anymore. His eyes were closed his head cocked to one side as if listening to the breeze. After a moment he opened his eyes, and Lorne could see the darkness was back full force. And then he smiled, before taking a step backward.

"Sir?"

"Don't try to follow me Lorne. There are many, many more traps like those. I have some unfinished business I have to attend to."

The smile faltered.

"They have to pay"

"For what?"

His eyes flashed at that , as is voice rose in anger.

"They killed them. They killed my team. And now they have to die."

Lorne exchanged confused glances with his team.

Nichols broke the silence, "Sir, your team's not dead. They're here now, searching for you."

A flash of hope like light, quickly dispersed of the darkness. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

"Take care of Atlantis for me Major."

Sheppard disappeared into the darkness.

"Wait!"

Nothing answered him except for the soft footfalls of a man bent on revenge.

Lorne clicked his radio.

"We have a problem"

--


End file.
